by Jem Tovey
My first love was a disaster, left me choked up with regret.
She told me I was her Romeo and she my Juliet.
I went to see her parents, to ask for her hand in marriage.
I told her dad what she had said, but he didn’t book a carriage
He said, “son don’t let all that fancy talk be any sort of guide,
They only lasted four days and six people died”.
My next girlfriend was less passionate, but scarcely more successful.
She kept a tazer in her handbag, which proved to be quite stressful.
I couldn’t forget our first date, even if I was amnesiac,
Because 50,000 volts, is definitely not an aphrodisiac.
I thought that third time lucky might prove to be the case,
She had a body straight from Baywatch, but Crimewatch gave the face.
I spent my time just praying that she’d find another fella,
But her black belt in karate meant I didn’t dare to tell her.
I’ve regretfully decided, that I’m better staying single.
Even when I go to parties, I very seldom mingle.
Any conversations with the fairer sex are distinguished by their brevity,
The reason should be obvious – I’ve had aversion therapy!